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Gathering 'round me, onward borne,
Which begins and ends in thee.
Which rocked beneath, immoveably :
His plank, then plunged aside to die
And the lamp was burning red
Or the sage will wake in sorrow.
Dreaming like a love-adept
In the sound his breathing kept ;
And I sped to succour thee.
west Come, as two doves to one beloved nest, Twin nurslings of the all-sustaining air On swift still wings glide down the atmosphere? And, hark! their sweet sad voices! 'tis despair Mingled with love, and then dissolved in sound. Panthea. Canst thou speak, sister ? all my words are
drowned. Ione. Their beauty gives me voice. See how they float On their sustaining wings of skiey grain, Orange and azure deepening into gold : Their soft smiles light the air like a star's fire. Chorus of Spirits. Hast thou beheld the form of Love ?
Fifth Spirit, As over wide dominions [wildernesses, I sped, like some swift cloud that wings the wide air's That planet-crested shape swept by on nghtning-braided
pinions, Scattering the liquid joy of life from his ambrosial tresses : His footsteps paved the world with light; but as I pass’d 'twas fading,
(madness, And hollow Ruin yawned behind: great sages bound in And headless patriots and pale youths who perished, unupbraiding,
(of sadness Gleamed in the night. I wandered o'er, till thou, O King
Turned by thy smile the worst I saw to recollected
gladness. Sixth Spirit. Ah, sister ! Desolation is a delicate thing: It walks not on the earth, it floats not on the air, But treads with silent footstep, and fans with silent wing The tender hopes which in their hearts the best and
gentlest bear; Who, soothed to false repose by the fanning plumes above And the music stirring motion of its soft and busy feet, Dream visions of aerial joy, and cali the monster Love, And wake, and find the shadow Pain, as he whom now
we greet. Chorus. Though Ruin now Love's shadow be,
Following him, destroyingly,
On Death's white and winged steed,
Trampling down both flower and weed,
Woundless though in heart or limb.
As buds grow red when the snow-storms flee,
From spring gathering up beneath,
Are to us as soft winds be
Which begins and ends in thee.
Only a sense
of musis, when the inspired voice and lute
Which thro' the deep and labyrinthine soul,
Like echoes thro' long caverns, wind and roll. Pro. How fair these air-born shapes ! and yet I feel Most vain all hope but love; and thou art far, Asia ! who, when my being overflowed, Wert like a golden chalice to bright wine Which else had sunk into the thirsty dust. All things are still: alas ! how heavily This quiet morning weighs upon my heart; Tho' I should dream I could even sleep with grief If slumber were denied not. I would fain Be what it is my destiny to be, The saviour and the strength of suffering man, Or sink into the original gulph of things: There is no agony, and no solace left; Earth can console, Heaven can torment no more.
Pan. Hast thou forgotten one who watches thee The cold dark night, and never sleeps but when The shadow of thy spirit falls on her?
Pro. I said all hope was vain but love: thou lovest.
Pan. Deeply in truth; but the eastern star looks white And Asia waits in that far Indian vale The scene of her sad exile ; rugged once And desolate and frozen, like this ravine ; But now invested with fair flowers and herbs, And haunted by sweet airs and sounds, which flow Among the woods and waters, from the ether Of her transforming presence, which would fade If it were mingled not with thine. Farewell!
END OF THE FIRST LOT.
oo long desired, too long delaying, come! now like death-worms the wingless moments crawl! The point of one white star is quivering still Deep in the orange light of wideping morn Beyond the purple mountains : thro' a chasm of wind-divided mist the darker lake Reflects it: now it wanes: it gleams again As the waves fade, and as the burning threads
Of woven cloud unravel in pale air:
The roseate sun-light quivers : hear I not
I feel, I see, Those eyes which burn thro'smiles that fade in tears, Like stars half-quenched in mists of silver dew. Beloved and most beautiful, who wearest